pupietreatz

[sevensforasecret]

.

[pertinax--loculos]

Word Find Tag

I was tagged by @ls-daydreams to find night, page, metal, blue and truth, and because I’m putting off doing anything productive (work, writing, exercise), I figured I’d have a look and see what pops up! ^_^ Fair warning: I’m probably gonna be taking from a variety of WIPs because that’s how I roll atm.

I’m gonna tag @winterandwords, @artdecosupernova-writing, @kaiusvnoir, @frostedlemonwriter, @words-after-midnight, @inkovert and @catchingbigfish (no pressure!) to find hand, yell, deal, wait and lose. Also gonna make this an OPEN TAG if you wanna search your WIP for those words and lemme know what you find! ^_^

Without further ado:

night (from AAH - Maddie POV)

Maddie woke to screaming alarms.

Nightmare scenario. Literally enough that it took her a few moments to realise that she wasn’t dreaming, that this was actually happening, that she was waking to red flashing lights and mechanical wailing filling her head.

The cryo chamber pulsed with the light, red, dark, red, dark. Even still locked inside Maddie could feel vibration under her feet. Her ship felt like it was being shaken apart. She blinked, trying to parse the heads-up display on the door to the chamber. Glowing words her brain wasn’t awake enough to understand. All-caps. Red like the light suffusing her chamber. Not a good sign.

Something pinched the side of her neck and a wash of cool flooded from the site. Emergency protocols. Drugs flushing her system to wake her up faster, to prepare her to deal with whatever was going on.

Her brain rebooted just in time for her to process the corridor in front of her sloughing away.

The shriek of the alarms redoubled. Maddie had a dizzying, terrifying moment of staring straight forward into the empty, star-spangled abyss before the bulkhead door snapped shut. Detritus torn free by the sudden depressurization dropped to the ground. The gravity drives were on.

page (___RISK IT)

My mind nattered at me as I did so. Why the fuck had Caden decided to run? In all of our dealings with him he’d never bothered. He’d dragged it out, yes, forced Ilya to the point of properly threatening actual bodily harm, but he’d always come through in the end. A combination of threats and bribery normally got us on the same page.

This case was really beginning to piss me off.

I rounded the corner of the building from the main street and nearly ran into Ilya. He looked at me, I looked at him, and he smacked a fist to his forehead.

“Not my fault,” I said quickly. “The fire escape was locked.”

“You are,” Ilya said, “The worst.”

metal (AAH - Haydyn POV)

Officer Flack took a step forward.

“You keep a civil tongue in that mouth or I’ll fucking remove it,” he said.

Verreynne spun back, and that sick smile was even more pronounced. “G’wan then. Give it yer best shot, Officer.”

Flack stepped forward again, then glanced down at Aaron and Haydyn. Something in the line of his jaw tightened. “Verreynne, I’m warning you—”

“Warn all you fucking like, you fucking crack, but why don’t you shut up about it til you grow the balls to actually fucking do it.”

Flack’s hand went to the bolter strapped to his leg. Haydyn clutched at Aaron’s arm with both hands. And Verreynne, back to running his hands over the consoles, murmured in a completely different voice, “Ah. There we go, gorgeous.”

A light switched on above the monitors that covered the front wall.

A moment later another flickered on to the left. Then the right, and again, and again, until a string of glowing green lights encircled the room, throwing colour onto the greys of metal and machinery.

blue (ATN) blame @inkovert for this im back on my bullshit ooops

Ronan's gaze snapped up to him, his blue eyes matching the iciness in Latrell's voice. "You say you were working late? On this... this Nox case?"

The derision and dismissiveness with which he spoke the name rankled Latrell -- another fact he would not examine at a later date -- and he bit back, "The one I'm not allowed to talk about? Yeah."

"Well, maybe we should start talking about it again," Ronan snapped.

"Given this is the way you always react, I--"

"The way I always react? This is not the way I always react, christ Brishan. I think I'm doing pretty well with my reaction."

Latrell opened his mouth to refute that obvious lie, but Ronan raised his voice, speaking across him.

"This is the criminal that's obsessed with you, right? The one who keeps calling you, who for all we know is staking out my fucking house to keep an eye on you?"

Latrell kept his mouth shut. The questions were rhetorical. It didn't matter that he now had a reason to offer regarding Nox's fixation. It didn't matter that he seriously doubted Nox was taking time away from his criminal enterprise to keep an eye on him. It was the first time in a long time Ronan had referred to the apartment as his and not ours.

He nodded, once, jerkily.

truth (ATN)

“I know the lead didn’t end up panning out,” he said, knowing he shouldn’t be speaking, that for him to speak first was out of character, but perhaps it could be forgiven in this circumstance and if he pretended to know nothing about what this meeting was really about that would benefit him, “But there was a good reason to believe—”

“We don’t give a fuck about whatever leads you were following.” Briggs’s voice cut across him effortlessly, measured and cold and abrupt. “We wanna know what you were doing last night.”

Latrell opened his mouth to say I was with my boyfriend, and closed it a heartbeat later.

Because he wasn’t.

Because Briggs was asking about an alibi.

And he didn���t fucking have one.

That was why they’d called in Albie first. They’d already predicted that he’d attempt to use her. And Albie, lord love and loathe her in equal amounts, would not have lied. If the thought had even crossed her mind, she would have pushed it aside, and she would have told the truth. Even if she thought Latrell’s ass was on the line. Compromising procedure was a step too far for her. One she would never take. Under any circumstances.

So at least he hadn’t shot himself in the foot by not bringing her into the loop. Even if he’d asked — even if the thought had occurred to him he’d need to — she wouldn’t have done it. Another cold comfort.

“Not much,” Latrell said, far too many beats too late. “My boyfriend was working late, so I just chilled at the apartment.”

“By yourself?”

Briggs’s implication was so obvious Latrell knew he couldn’t ignore it, no matter how much he wanted to.

[millionsknives]

bait / hook / line / sinker

[kinselu]

they have him pinned, but at least they're warm!

fanart for @tsunochizu 's backwards through the snow fic! im SO normal about this story (still emotionally recovering from chapter 15) i love this fic so much <3

they are the STINKIEST of family...

(for those who haven't read this fic, first of all, go read it now. but also pebbles is mostly ok. kinda. hes just dirty and stinky... amongst other things)

[gatoburr0]

[faaun]

last night i got home kind of tipsy and very much in tears and my mother told me the force you exert to keep someone in your life is proportional to the force with which they will leave your life. if you have to fight tooth and claw to keep them, their leaving will be just as hard, just as harsh, and just as definite.

[medicalunprofessional]

neighborhood watch

[arcanegifs]

Vi and Caitlyn's Recall Animations in their Valentine's Day Heartthrob skins

Bonus: Official Splash Art

[hellenhighwater]

I'm on a work trip--it's a class of people in my field picked from all over the country, so I don't know anyone else here--and the info packet I got basically said "people have told us they wish they'd been given a chance to meet everyone else before the class starts, so if you want to do that, show up to the hotel bar at this time and look for people who look like lawyers."

and I know. that I should go do this, because networking good. but also. this is weirdly stressful. how do I make sure that a group of random lawyers knows I am also a lawyer while still being casual and chill but not dressed formally at all

am i going to have to take off my combat boots for this

[sluckythewizard]

THEY could give me the surgurey i need (inspired alot by evojellys designs for em. GREAT STUFF)

[icewindandboringhorror]

Little bright colored outfit with a fun vest ~

(shoes from ebay like 10 years ago. everything else is thrifted)

[whaliiwatching]

hm. them. also ding ding

[inkykeiji]

Do you think daddykuna is the type who would spank you in public bc he likes humiliating you? Or would he think your cute ass is for his eyes only so he only does so behind closed doors?

oh my gosh a delicious question!!!

character: sukuna x fem!reader warnings: 18+ minors do not interact, public spanking, humiliation, dacryphilia, daddy kink, general toxicity words: 809

okay so i think sukuna is like, heavily into humiliating you, so i 100% think he’d spank you right then and there, in stark fucking daylight, no matter where you are. little girls who act like brats must be treated like brats, must be punished like brats, no ifs, ands, or buts about it. and that’s what he tells you, in that infuriatingly blasé lilt, the beginnings of a smirk toying with the left corner of his mouth. 

but daddy! you’re whining, a thick shield of tears already glazing your eyes, rolled into drops by your rapid blinking and catching in your lashes, glittering so delicately as they anxiously flutter. not here! not now!

yes, here. yes, now.

you can hear the amusement and pride staining his voice; just faint notes of it infused in his words, but evident nonetheless as he takes you over his knee in the middle of a busy park on a sunday afternoon, your thrashing and wriggling not hindering him in the slightest.

he’s irritatingly unperturbed as he flips your dress up and yanks your panties halfway down your thighs, the motion simultaneously smooth and sharp, entirely unaffected by your pathetic little whimpers and choked out apologies, nails piercing his skin as your fingers curl and tangle and tug at his shirt.

it’s your own fault; you know it is, he’s saying as one large hand kneads one of your asscheeks, priming the area, collecting curious glances. you shouldn’t have misbehaved, prancing around in a manner that ensured the skirt of your dress fanned out wide and rippled, just enough to gift him with teasing glimpses of the dainty lace molded to your skin. 

you shouldn’t have acted like such a stubborn fucking brat when he had warned you, calm and cautious, not to play with daddy, if you hadn’t wanted everyone to see your sweet little ass, he’s telling you over your half-stifled sobs of humiliation, chest stuttering against his strong thighs, muscles flexing beneath you as he plants his feet, readjusts his hips, places a heavy hand on the small of your back and presses down hard, pinning you in place. that must’ve been what you were aiming for, right? you wouldn’t have behaved in such a way if it weren’t, right?

you should’ve known better than to mess around with daddy, especially in public. you should’ve known that he’d take it seriously, instantly—no matter where you are, no matter who can see, no matter what may follow.

each slap is harder than the last, harsher than the last, echoing louder and louder with every collision of his palm against your skin. every impact shoves another pitiful little sound from your chest, lodging in your throat, clawing at the back of your teeth, and aw, don’t smother them, baby; we want to hear you. 

it’s excruciatingly embarrassing, the eyes of bystanders and onlookers slicing into your bare, exposed skin, gazes and glares and gaping depositing trails of scorching pins they glide over your body, slow and scrutinizing.

it’s inescapable, the absolute agony their attention bestows upon you, your puffy, salt-stricken face nuzzling awkwardly into your daddy’s ribs, desperate for some semblance of protection.

please, daddy, please, daddy, please, daddy, you’re weeping out, pleads strung together in a steady stream of drool. stop, daddy, stop, daddy, stop, daddy!

you know he won’t, you know he’d never, not one to go back on his word once he’s solidified it, but you just can’t help it, entreaties pouring from your lips instinctively, uncontrollably, as natural as the snot oozing from your nose and tears blurring your vision. 

you can feel his cock, hot and hard and throbbing against your tummy, but you know your sobs and whines and yelps are only half the exhilaration.

because sukuna loves showing off, sukuna gets a serious kick out of displaying what’s his; what he owns, what others can’t have, can’t touch. those looks of disgust and disbelief, of envy and enrapture, send a sick thrill surging through his veins, because there’s one thing they all have in common.

awe. 

it’s the most divine feeling, makes his flesh tingle in the most delightful way as everyone admires him, admires his strength, admires his terror, admires his things—how powerful he is as every smack! rings out among the space, how pretty you are as your cries chase after the resounding sting. 

it’s grotesque. it’s gorgeous. they can’t tear their gazes away from it.

possessiveness emanates off his body in dense waves, their domineering presence polluting the atmosphere and leaving it stifling—you can look, but don’t even think about touching. 

their murmurs only amplify their stares, the gasps and whispers and grumbles, saturated in incredulity and audacity, in outrange and offence, only feeding his insatiable ego, bloating it with an intoxicating arrogance, ever-growing hubris gorging on their attention.

[stressfulsloth]

Harry and his relationship with his own disability is so tragic to me. Because you have this man who is disabled in *so* many different ways, he's physically paralysed in his jaw, he's got severe nerve damage and internally his organs are going into shutdown due to the alcohol/drug use, but then on top of that you have the mental illness, the depression, the potential schizophrenia, the adhd/autism and you end up with this man who is in So Much Pain all the time from every imaginable angle. He's overstimulated every second of every day. Everything hurts him, including light and sounds. The world screams at him. He can't emote in a way that others relate to. Every inch of him physically hurts and he's one insult away from death. He can't get better- chronic illness is chronic illness, he's just going to be *like that* forever- so what is there left to do but get worse?

And then he's trapped in a system that values capital above human life. Capitalism treats disabled people like burdens but that won't stop them from wringing every last drop of life out of you. Empathy isn't profitable. The only percieved worth he has to the society around him is his productivity, his work for the RCM maintaining the status quo for capitalist interests, and its so entwined with *who he is* that it's impossible to separate him out from it. He is the Law. A force, not a human. He has to dehumanise himself to keep going. And really he does have to keep going, like a shark dying if they stop moving; there is no other option for him. What chance is there for him if he stops working? He's institutionalised- the RCM quite literally lives in his brain as esprit de corps. He can't escape them. He is the infernal engine. He will never stop. But his body, his health, are collateral damage. And to Harry, all that is inconsequential as long as he's doing his job.

[carnivalcarriondiscarded]

WIFI IS MINE ONCE AGAIN as i sit on a mattress on the floor

[forourtomorrows]

« We can change the World！ »